My web page.

Last night was misty and cool, an evening that reminded me of how much I enjoy the fall. 

But I'm not that crazy about spiders. 

Sure, some of them make beautiful webs.

Others just make a mess on the ground and call it a day.

When I was quite small I guess I had a dream with a daddy longlegs that had a body as big as a baseball. I really thought they were that big for a long time. Thank God they aren't, not even in Florida. They're bad anyway.

Creep.

My main issue about spiders is that in autumn they come into the house. I wondered about that -- it's not like we fill up with flies or something after the equinox. As it turns out, the increase in the indoor spider population is caused by the same thing that causes a lot of misery in this world -- guys looking for dames. And, as in the human world, it causes a lot of the guys to get smushed.

One October afternoon a few years ago I had a long drive on back roads in Rockland and Orange counties through the most glorious colors of foliage. It was fantastic, a true feast for the eyes. I got home in a wonderful mood. Then the most gigantic spider I ever saw in person popped up by my favorite chair. I shrieked like a toddler and smashed it so hard I might have caused structural damage to the floor.

That spider was sent by the devil to ruin my happiness.

All these thoughts reminded me of Spider-Man in Marvels, a 1994 limited comic book series by Kurt Busiek, with the incomparable art of Alex Ross. It was a brilliant re-telling of famous moments in the Marvel canon, told from the point of view of a common man. There are a lot of things I loved about the series, but this one page I have never forgotten:

"So creepy..." It had never occurred to me that people would find Spider-Man creepy. But of course they would. A mystery man who can crawl up walls like a spider is scary.

We readers know him as good ol' Spidey. The Defenders might defend you, the Avengers might avenge you, but Spidey would hang with you. Literally! But in the real world: creepy.

Same for his archnemesis, Dr. Octopus; it wasn't until Spider-Man 2 that I realized how weird and frightening he would be in real life. Octopuses are too, but at least we can eat them. In the comics, Doc Ock was menacing, but also a chubby guy with glasses. On the screen his tentacles propelled him with inhuman strength. When the common New Yorkers on the elevated train try to protect Spider-Man, he throws them all to the side like dolls.

Some people like spiders, and octopuses, and I don't want either crawling in my house. If that's the only downside to fall, though, I'll go with it.

Creepysoft.

Stoked up the old laptop and got nothing for a minute. Then came the sans serif messages.

Hi.

Uhhh... hi yourself. 

We've updated your PC. 

Good of you. 

All your files are exactly where you left them.

Ohhhhhhkay. 

You are a naughty boy, aren't you?

HEY!

So no, I didn't get that last one, but rather a message concerning new features to get excited about (NB: No excitement followed) and a warning to not turn off the PC while they updated. 

But I think I'd almost rather they used a stentorian tone and all caps. 

WARNING! THIS PC HAS BEEN UPDATED! DO NOT PANIC!

The sly, friendly approach comes across to me, anyway, as more Killer Clown than Mr. Rogers. Like something sinister is going on....

Microsoft probably tests these things with consumers, but they may be consumers from Seattle, which shouldn't count. Seriously, I think a lot of us are put off by the fake-friendly approach these days. Best-case scenario is someone is trying to sell us something. Worst case is someone wants our mortal remains to wind up in his crawlspace. Eventually.

The problem is that we don't hear it when we get the stentorian tones and all caps. ALL CAPS has become the medium of the most mentally feeble Internet trolls. And there's just such a vast quantity of noise. Warning labels on meds have to come with black boxes around the important bits, because for the one or two warnings about things that will kill us, there are 452 warnings about reactions suffered by the hypochondriac-American community. Most of all, we are all adolescents now, and used to ignoring the shouts from Mom and Dad.

Look, Microsoft, I promise I am paying attention when I ramp up the PC and see what looks like the old Blue Screen o' Death, okay? No need for the soft sell. Just write "Updates have been made to your PC software" and tell me what to do. You can even use serif fonts. I won't panic, I swear. 

Proud to be a New Yorker.

Former New York Assemblyman Vito Lopez is probably no more of a piece of garbage than any state's lowest, creepiest slimeball legislator. Every state in the union has someone like him: a tin-plated glad-hander who thinks he's a man of the people and a man for the ladies, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Two former staffers sued after the scum weasel harassed them. He probably thought he was irresistible.

Think again.

The great news for the people of New York State is that WE get to chip in to pay the plaintiffs more than half a million dollars to settle the lawsuits. Thanks, Vito! That's some fine legislating there!

Part of the reason we're on the hook for this jackass's behavior is that the women wisely included longtime Assembly speaker Sheldon Silver in the lawsuit. Sheldon the Felon was recently arrested following a federal probe that he used his power to send business to a law firm to which he was connected, a firm that was so grateful it sent him a big fruit basket. Oops, I meant half a million dollars. Or maybe there was a fruit basket too. He protected Vito over the years---there were as many as eight women known to be at the pointy end of Vito's attention---and now we have to pay.

Personally, I can understand why we're on the hook, but if we can't just use Shelly's slush fund to pay for it (conveniently about the same amount of cash), I think it should be solely the responsibility of voters in the 53rd and 65th Assembly districts---Vito's and Shelly's, respectively. They kept sending this asswipes to Albany. Let them have the bill. Whatever my representatives have been up to, they've at least been smart enough to not get caught yet.

Oh, yes, I'm proud to be a New Yorker this morning. Most state capitals are packed with sleazeballs, but at ours you could probably throw a rock and indict whomever it hits.

Creepiest thing I've seen so far this year.

Trendwatching's announcement of one of the major trends to, uh, watch had every goose bump I own honking. "The Internet of Caring Things" is what the April briefing is called, or "Why consumers will embrace connected objects with a clear mission: to actively care for them."

"A network of connected objects brought to life by a clear mission: to actively care for consumers – their physical and mental wellbeing, homes, loved ones, and more" it goes on to say, and is accompanied by a crushingly sad photo of an elderly woman in some kind of home clutching a stuffed animal.

There is something about people seeking love from something completely non-sentient that just lights up every creep warning on my board. Even a hamster will show you more genuine affection than a vacuum cleaner that's been programmed to simulate love. You may love Teddy Ruxpin, but Teddy Ruxpin cannot love you back.

Although he is fond of Grubby.

Not that I don't show affection toward or otherwise anthropomorphize objects I come across. Of course I do. I am quite fond of my car, and have been known to pat the hood after a long and successful trip. I've loved my home since it was studs and floorboard. I don't sit around and talk with these things, but I can imagine what they're like. I'll bet you could come up with a character description for every car you've owned: burly and lazy, snarky and unreliable, peppy and cheerful. And when some chair leaps in my way and stubs my toe, you'd better believe I attribute malice to it.

But it seems like the trendwatchers are expecting us to be so addled, so love-starved, so pathetic, that we're going to go nuts for a toaster that can make cooing sounds. We don't even know if it's going to be possible to create artificial intelligence, real consciousness in a man-made object, and we certainly don't know if it's going to be a good thing if we do. (If it is a device capable of making its own choices, why on earth would it choose anything good regarding us time-limited meatbags? A period like this in which the scientific community is cynical about the origin of ethics is a bad time for the creation of a monster.)

Some people get very excited over AI research, but it seems like planned human obsolescence to me at best.

These kinds of things never bothered me much when I was a kid. Hymie was just another pal of Maxwell Smart's. Rosie on The Jetsons was just a member of the household. (Yes, I know what Futurama did to her, thanks.) Now I'm less certain that A.I. creatures can be our buddies.

Isaac Asimov wrote more fiction about robots than anyone, and yet even he seemed to be overwhelmed by the question of artificial consciousness. If you know what became of the murder-solving robot sidekick in Caves of Steel, or the answer the "The Last Question," you'll know what I mean.

And I refuse to watch the apocalyptic movie with the robot kid and Teddy Ruxpin schlepping around after human extinction.

So with all this on my mind, I have to ask: Can't we all agree that the Uncanny Valley may be fun to visit, but nobody wants to live there?